


Winter

by StarvingMe



Series: Inqed Words [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Angst, Confessions, F/F, I mean it, Sad, the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarvingMe/pseuds/StarvingMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor has to leave with the Winchesters and Castiel, and her grace is running low now...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“ If this were the last snow curling  
On your fingers, in my palm  
If this were the last I’ve felt you breathing  
How would I carry on?”  
~ _The Last Snowfall_  by Vienna Teng

Despite agreeing to go with them, Cass was reluctant to let go of Wordsmith’s hand.  The hunter and other angel were packing the car, arranging things in the backseat for her to lie down comfortably.  When the last bag was tossed into the trunk, she squeezed the other’s hand, heart sinking before she looked at her. “I… I don’t want to go,” she murmured, afraid of breaking her promise.

Wordsmith’s hand squeezed hers as she threaded her fingers in hers.  “I know,” she said, nodding, “But you need to… it’ll be the safest way…”  She smiled, gently smoothing her hair as she added, “I made sure Castiel and the hunter know about your allergies, and Castiel says they have some music records to help you sleep when you get there…  You’ll have a room all to yourself, and there’s a library, and a fully stocked kitchen…”  She paused a moment, thinking over that for a moment before she said, “And I’m sure the others probably know how to cook, so you’ll be okay…”

Her smile trembled, but the tears didn’t fall.  She held tightly to her hand still, but she nodded.  “Yeah…  I suppose…”  Looking up at her, she said softly, “Can… Can I still message you?”

“Of course, I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” the demon answered, letting her take as long as she needed.

“And I can still call you, right?” she asked, eyes hesitant.

Smoothing her hair again, she nodded, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.  “Yes, you can still call if you need me.  We’ll keep looking, don’t worry…”

Nodding, the angel jumped when Castiel appeared at her side, flinching a little.  There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t put her finger on, a look that made her face burn with shame.  She simply nodded as he motioned to the car, Dean holding the door open for her.  Not wanting to be parted from her any longer than necessary, Wordsmith helped her into the car, closing it behind her and reaching in to take her fingers into her own.  The angel shifted, moving up in the seat to lean out the window as Wordsmith leaned in to tell her good-bye.  Foreheads collided a moment, both angel and demon flinching a little before they chuckled, smiling at each other.  The engine roared to life as they both rushed to speak, trying to get their goodbyes out before Wordsmith leaned in to steal one last kiss….

She cried out in surprise as the car lurched forward, the angel slipping out of her hands as the black Impala slid out of the parking lot and into traffic.  She instinctively darted after, scrambling into the road as she watched Cass lean out the window, red-brown hair fluttering around her face as she waved forlornly to her.  She stopped running, watching until the car was long out of sight before she hung her head, turning back towards the motel.  It was going to be a long drive back, and dwelling on missed kisses would only serve to make it longer.  Running a hand through her hair, she turned back to the car and Guthrie, climbing in without a word.

Turning into traffic, she eyed the signs indicating the direction, debating silently if she should follow…  They weren’t too far ahead, and Cass would do better if she rode with Wordsmith…  She could keep a closer eye on her—she knew how to keep her calm and comfort the angel…

Hell could wait.  The angel— _her_  angel—needed her.  She reached for the turn signal to follow them into traffic when Guthrie looked up from his phone.  “The King would like to see you.”

She hesitated with her middle finger on the turn signal, frowning as she waited for the light to turn.  “Why?”

“Probably because you haven’t been to work in two days, and I can only cover our absence for so long,” he said, sending a quick reply before tucking his phone back into the pocket of his jacket.  “I will go ahead and buy you some time to get the car back, but I suggest you don’t dawdle—you know how the King hates to be kept waiting.”

A click of his fingers, and Wordsmith was alone in the car.  She wanted to scream at the steering wheel, hands balling into fists as she grit her teeth.  Always something else came first, always the King, always Hell, always work and deals and the rest of the world over what she wanted…  It was high time she even that scale a little bit.

Clicking the turn signal to follow the Impala, she glanced down at her phone as it buzzed with a message.  Tapping the screen, she opened the message, frowning at the attachment before clicking to open it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the angel cocooned in a blanket and pillow, hair spilling around her face as she looked up into the camera.  The light caught her eyes and made them glitter as she gave a tiny smile, the sunlight glinting silver against her wings.  She looked like she’d been crying again, but it was hard to tell.  Staring down at the picture, she gave a deep sigh.  For the umpteenth time in her life, she found herself standing at a fork in the path, trying to decide where best to go.  Taking a deep breath, she unclicked her turn signal, just as the light turned green, pulling into traffic as she headed towards the highway.

She was with another angel, and would be protected by two hunters where she was going.  While she couldn’t trust them half as far as she could throw them, she knew they were running out of options, and Cass was running out of time.  She just needed to have patience…

 

* * *

 

“Dean!” Castiel growled when the hunter pulled the car into traffic, reaching into the backseat to grab at the Inquisitor as her ethereal wings beat against the seat and the roof of the car, leaning as far out the window as she could manage, waving and watching Wordsmith get smaller and smaller in the distance.  Once he was certain she wasn’t trying to actually climb out the window, Castiel took a breath, praying for patience as he watched her slowly slump against the door, her wings drooping.

“Arms, head, _and_ torso inside the car,” Dean barked at her, glancing in the rearview mirror.  “And roll up the window, the heater’s on.”

As she slipped back onto the seat, starting to slowly put the window back up, she kept her head bowed, refusing to look at them.  Frowning at him, Castiel’s brows furrowed before he said, “Dean, why did you pull away?  They were still saying goodbye.  That seemed rude.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Dean asked, looking at him in disbelief.  “You’re concerned about being  _rude_?  To a  _demon_?”

“I’m  _concerned_ ,” Castiel answered with a frown, “because we are helping an  _angel_ , and _you're_ being an ass!”

The tension in the vehicle was nearly palpable as she sat back, blue eyes flicking between them before both men turned to face the windshield. Silence permeated, broken only by the sound of old rock on the radio. After looking over her shoulder through the back window a few times and hoping to see a dark vehicle following, she simply sighed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it around herself as she laid down on her side. Great, only a few short hours into the ride and already the hunter hated her being there. Tugging the blanket up to her chin, she settled in, wondering how long the drive would be, hoping Wordsmith got safely back...

After a few miserable minutes, she looked up to find Castiel watching her. Blushing a little, she shifted and tried to hide her face. His expression softened just the tiniest bit as he said, “I think you'll like the bunker, Inquisitor... There are many volumes in the library, and the sleeping quarters are quite comfortable.” She managed a slight nod of understanding as she tucked herself into the blanket again. She could feel the press of the silver vial in her pocket and she wondered if maybe the Men of Letters would have something on the sigils, anything to help—she wanted to be whole again, and safe, and  _ home _ ... “Inquisitor?” Castiel asked, drawing her attention again as she blinked away the tears that were forming. Seeing Castiel holding up his phone, she couldn't help the small smile, hearing the click of the camera before he sent the image, shifting to hand the phone to her. “This is yours. Dean and Sam's numbers are in it already.”

She took the phone, staring dumbfounded at the wallpaper. She looked up at Castiel, about to ask when he'd taken the picture, but he was already looking back out the window. Her tiny smile simply grew as she laid back down, holding the phone tightly as she stared at the picture of her and Wordsmith, the demon pressing a kiss to her forehead as the angel clung to her. Already, she felt better about being away from Wordsmith. Not perfect, not whole... but  _ okay _ with it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


A week. Wordsmith noted the date with great disdain as she followed behind the King, discretely checking her phone for a reply from the angel—she had only been gone a week, and already, she was ready to climb the walls and go tearing after her.

Sure, Cass was doing okay, if the pictures and texts throughout the day were any indication, but it just wasn’t the same when she got home at night to an empty flat.  She’d gone so long seeing her every day, and even before all of this, nearly every day, it was so weird not to have that luxury…

The King had said nothing when she got back from her little jaunt, simply pushing her right into work. Things were hectic, and while she found that it made the days pass faster, the nights seemed to drag intoeternity.

The first night, she’d fallen into bed and had almost drifted off when her phone buzzed. She’d been about to fly into a tirade—king or not, she wouldn’t put up with this shit after already spending all day chasing his every whim—but she caught the sound of a tiny sniffle, and her anger melted away. As she lay in bed, comforting the angel, she told herself the first night would be the hardest. The longing, the pangs of want that left her feeling hollow, but with time, they would get better… She didn’t even notice the hour when she finally managed to talk the angel into getting some sleep before managing to hang up, roll over, and conk out herself.

The hardest part was the dreams.  The first one happened right after her head hit the pillow that initial night.  She dreamt of being wrapped in arms that held her tight, of eyes that shone like sapphires, of tender kisses and silver wings…  When the alarm blared angrily, she wanted to scream in frustration as she tried so hard to cling to the dream as it dissolved around her.  Sitting up slowly, she debated the consequences of calling in again when her phone buzzed.  Leaning over, she grabbed it, finding a good morning message in her inbox.  Taking a deep breath, she sent a short reply, forcing herself to get up and get ready.

If Cass could do it in the middle of nowhere, with hunters and an angel and being stuck indoors, then she could suck it up and endure.

The next night, though, it wasn’t better. It was worse in most ways. The angel’s messages were sporadic through the day, making her jump now and again at the buzz of her phone. Each time, she was glad to check the message, reading the angel’s words as she poured over whatever book she’d managed to find. She was quite the font of information—but the Inquisitor was growing impatient as she realized that everything they seemed to be finding out, they already knew, or had nothing to do with her current predicament. Wordsmith was actually expecting her call this time, taking care to prepare for bed before she called. Hearing her voice, even as she was on the verge of tears, was enough to bring her some sort of calm. Some things never changed…

Each day that they found nothing helpful brought both relief and a flash of guilt. She couldn’t say it, but part of her prayed they never would find a way to restore her grace. If she stayed this way, stayed almost human, and they were able to just remove Galahad…

The King’s voice echoed in her head as she changed for bed, frowning for a moment at her reflection. “Those sigils they cut into her… It’s like cracking open a candle and lighting it in the middle and letting it burn itself from the center out. She has a month or so left at the rate she’s burning—less now, if I’m right…” Those words worried her, wondering if that was linked with her forgetting. What would happen if they didn’t get her grace back? Would she burn out, snuffed out like a candle in the wind? The thought of those blue eyes blank and unseeing made her shudder, shaking her head hard to clear it as the phone rang.

But if grace accelerated its effects… what hope did they have of success?

Answering the phone, she smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed, letting the bird twitter away about the things she had learned. Her voice warmed her to the core, soothing the ache of missing her for just a little while.

Today, though, was different.  For the last seven days, she received a message when the angel got up—later and later each day, saying that the others simply let her sleep however long she wanted—and then periodically through the day, she would send messages and pictures.  Once in a while, if she hadn’t gotten a message in a couple of hours, she would get a surprise picture, showing the angel slumped over a book, fast asleep.  But here it was, already well after noon, and there hadn’t been a single message. She tried not to think anything of it as she followed the King to his lunch-date, tucking her phone back into her pocket. She was twitchy, uneasy as she let a hand rest over her phone to feel for the faint buzz. Something was out of place, she could just sense it…

“So how’s the little bird?”

Wordsmith was yanked back to the present when the King spoke, glancing around before she realized that the others had been dismissed.  Swallowing heavily, she straightened her jacket, forcing her hand away from her pocket as she took a deep breath.  “She’s fine,” she said, not looking at the King.  “She’s somewhere safe.”

“Somewhere that still has decent reception, from the way you keep checking your phone,” he said, taking a languid sip of his drink.  “I presume she’s found a way to shield herself from the other birdbrains—I hear they’re searching high and low for the renegade angel that broke out of prison a week ago, but the trail went cold as soon as she landed.”

Shifting uneasily, Wordsmith nodded a little at that.  No point in lying or playing stupid.  Too late for that…  “She’s quite safe where she is,” she said quietly, looking down at her feet.  She didn’t dare bring up who she’d found to help shelter the angel—she didn’t have any desire to find out just how he would react to know that she had been in contact with another blue-eyed angel…

“Just remember what I told you,” Crowley said, eyes narrowing as her phone finally buzzed, making her heart race as she forced herself not to check it.  It buzzed again, a second message, and she wanted so bad to just pull it out and look at it.  “Seems someone’s antsy to speak to you,” he said, voice low as he practically dared her to pull it out.

After a few moments, he held out his hand to her, motioning for her to hand it over.  “Sire?” she said, instinctively taking a step back as she met his gaze.

“Hand it over,” he ordered sternly, his eyes piercing through her before she could even argue.  Her teeth grit for a few moments as she contemplated outright refusing him before reluctantly reaching into her pocket, pulling out her phone and powering it down, placing it in his hand.  His fingers closed around it, pointing it at her before he said, “You can have this back when we’re done for the day.  Perhaps you’ll take these next several hours as a chance to reflect on manners and keeping your mind at work and off the fact that you’ve been sleeping with the enemy!”  His voice rose in volume until he was nearly shouting, making her flinch again before she gave a curt nod.  It was only a little ways away now, right?  She could handle it.  She could survive without her phone.

An hour later, she caught herself reaching into her pocket for the twentieth time before she stopped herself, frowning.  This was going to be harder than she’d thought…

 


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel looked up from where he was setting up the coffee pot, seeing where the Inquisitor was shuffling sleepily into the room, still wrapped up in her blanket as she rubbed her eyes.  He glanced at the clock, trying to remember what time he’d carried her from the library back to bed, frowning when he realized she’d slept for almost eleven hours straight.

“Morning,” she murmured sleepily, dropping herself into a chair as he started the coffee pot, pulling out some bread to make some toast.

“Afternoon,” Castiel said, watching her blink up at him with such a tired gaze, he could almost swear she hadn’t slept at all.  “Rough night?”

She didn’t answer, only nodding before she leaned forward, letting her head rest on the table.  She didn’t move when he placed a mug of coffee in front of her, though she did mutter a thank you into the table.  She was falling into a steady cycle of staying up far too late and sleeping for most of the day, and he was a little concerned, though he didn’t want to alarm her as she tried her best to settle into the bunker.

His concern for the exhausted angel disappeared a few moments later when Dean appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, carting several plastic bags and dusted with snow.  He pushed past Castiel to get the bags onto the counter, sighing in relief when he was able to set the bags down, flexing his fingers where the weight of the plastic handles had been cutting off the circulation. 

“You could have done that in more than one trip, you know,” Castiel said in bemusement, blue eyes watching the hunter before he started to help him unload the bags.

“Nah,” he said with a slight smirk, “two trips are for the weak...”  He glanced over his shoulder at the soft giggle, managing a smile at the Inquisitor as she pulled the mug closer, sitting up and reaching for the sugar dispenser, beginning to pour sugar into her coffee.  “Besides, it’s starting to really come down... I thought you said we were only going to get an inch or two of snow?”

Castiel frowned at that, brushing a few stray flakes from his shoulders before he said, “Even angels can get the weather wrong, Dean.”

Chuckling a little, he spied the Inquisitor still pouring into her coffee, reaching out to take the almost empty container from her hands, making her look up at him, blinking owlishly.  “Hey!” she said, reaching for the dispenser again as she gave a tired smile.  “Did it look like I was done with the sugar?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... that much sugar is bad for you,” he said, setting it back on the counter as he pulled out a large bag to refill it.  “Would you like some coffee with your sugar?”

“Very funny,” the Inquisitor said flatly, clearly not awake enough to be amused.  “That’s just  _so_ original...”  She went quiet after a few moments, stirring her coffee slowly to mix the sugary crystals into the caffeinated liquid. 

A few moments later, Sam followed him down, taking greater care not to trek mud and slush everywhere as he set his own finds down on the table.  She glanced up at him, offering him a tired smile by way of a greeting before she seemed to realize both hunters were dusted with snow.  Blinking curiously, she asked quietly, “Is... is it snowing out?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a few thick volumes that he set next to her, adding a couple of fiction books to the pile.  “We should be fine down here, we’ve got enough supplies to last us if the roads close and the plows can’t get to us for a while.”  He looked up, catching the look on her face as he frowned.  “What?”

Her eyes shone as she looked at Castiel, suddenly more alert than a few moments ago.   _Snow!_ Her favorite weather!  “Brother, can I-”

“Absolutely not,” Castiel interrupted, his tone almost harsh as he shook his head and pulled out a few more items to place in the fridge.  “You need to remain where it’s warded, and it’s safer in here.”

Her face fell as she looked at her fellow angel, eyes pleading.  They didn’t notice the hunters as they watched the angels, exchanging looks before they quietly continued to put things away—this was angel business, and they already knew better than to get in the middle of it.  “Please, brother, I’ve been cooped up in here for too long!” she cried, starting to get up as she gingerly made her way around the table.  “I just want to see the snow, Castiel, just for a minute-”

“I said no, Inquisitor.” 

“But it’ll just be for a few seconds,

His voice was harsh, making her flinch as she looked up at him before she bowed her head.  Without a word, she turned to slip out of the kitchen, slumped in defeat.

Dean frowned as he watched her go, waiting until he heard the sound of her door closing before he looked to the angel with a frown.  “What the hell, Cas? It's just some snow...”

Shaking his head a little, he sighed, looking up at Dean. “It's not the snow, Dean... Heaven is on high alert—they've been looking for her for several days now and they're getting more desperate... The last thing we need to do is to draw attention to the bunker...”

“Really?” Dean asked, folding his arms as he frowned at the angel. “So you're concerned about Heaven spotting her, but not about her girlfriend, the demon?” Blue eyes rolled as he shook his head. “Come on, Cas... there's got to be something... There's only so much more hiding down here that she's going to put up with, and we're kind of running out of ideas of where to keep looking...”

Frowning at that, Cas took a deep breath, nodding just a little bit as he grabbed her mug of coffee, moving to follow her down the hall. He found her sitting in her room, staring down at her phone as she sat cross-legged on her bed, clutching a pillow. At his knock, she looked up, eying him suspiciously before looking back down at her phone. “It's okay, brother... You needn't apologize... I understand,” she said softly, toying with the vial of her grace.

“No, Inquisitor,” he said, hesitating for a moment before he moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It's... it's not that... I've been concerned about-”

“I know that Heaven's still looking for me, Castiel,” she interrupted, looking up at him again. “... I know that Galahad hasn't stopped searching... and he probably won't, not ever... And I'm running out of time...” Shrugging a little, she sighed, letting her shoulders droop a little. “I don't even know how to tell anyone... I mean...” Looking up at him, she looked so small and lost, tears shining in those eyes. “How do you prepare someone for that? How do you tell someone that you have to do something dangerous, and because you were scared and hesitated, you're probably going to die anyway?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, looking down at her hands again as she clutched at the pillow.

A gentle hand held hers, making her look up again into sad eyes that seemed to echo her pain. “There's really no good way to say it... but saying it is better than just leaving it unsaid...” he told her, squeezing her fingers as he tried to comfort her. After she managed to calm herself, he added, “I guess this means you haven't yet told her...”

She shook her head a little at that, looking away. “I don't know how to bring it up... “Hey, yeah, I have my grace, but it might kill me anyway so I'm biding my time because...'” Her voice trailed off as tears welled up in her eyes, looking away from Castiel. Of all her brethren that could help her... “... When I fell... after I got out of the hospital... I went to a bar... because all I could think was that maybe a drink would make it feel better...”

“Make what better?” Castiel asked, waving his hand to will the door to close.

She hesitated, wondering how much more she should reveal. He already knew that she'd been staying with Wordsmith, that she'd been letting the demon harbor her for months, but dare she tell him... Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong, just this once... “Galahad's betrayal of my trust,” she said quietly. “I was released to earth while the apocalypse was still on track, though my task was to just.. watch for weapons and... report my findings... When the apocalypse was over, orders changed... Get a feel for the Earth, see what I could learn... it was just... busy work... They wanted to give me something to keep me out of the way—and I was surprisingly okay with that... I traveled around for a little while before I landed where I was stationed, and started to make myself comfortable...

“One day, I was writing some of my findings in my journal when I heard a sound... Turned out to be a demon... Looked a little surprised that I was there, maybe, but... there she was... She wasn't intimidated by me, and she also wasn't there for me... Galahad summoned me right then, and so I went, and I thought that would be the last time I saw her...” Running a hand through her hair, she sighed deeply, staring down at her phone. “I didn't think anything of it when I saw her again, and then again, and again... Ran into her in the rain one night, and then the next day, she was very, very drunk when we bumped into each other... She kept saying something about blue eyes, that everyone has blue eyes... told me to 'fly back to _him_ '...”

“Him?” Castiel asked, confused as he tried to follow along.

She simply shrugged, smiling a little. “Beats me... Never did figure that out... When I saw her after that, I don't think she remembered... We just... kept running into each other... Sometimes on purpose, sometimes... not so much...” Sighing, she looked away, biting her lip before she said quietly, “I... first noticed that... I was forming a sort of attachment a couple months down the road.... It was... strange... I didn't really think anything of it—I had few friends, and I so rarely met up with all of you, it seemed normal to want to have someone to talk to...” Her voice shook as she tried to hold onto her courage, taking a deep breath. “I... I made the mistake of asking Galahad... I was... unsure what to do... and... he got angry... I swore to him that I hadn't done anything, that it was fine, I could walk away, I'd move somewhere else and continue my work...”

At that, she paused, chewing on her lip. He waited patiently, letting her gather her thoughts as she sniffed quietly, running hands through her hair. “... by then, though, I didn't want to... I was having fun, and she was my friend... I learned things with her... I felt...” Sighing, she smiled. “I felt important... Like I mattered to her...”

“I assume Galahad found out that you had no intention of leaving,” Castiel said, nodding slowly.

The Inquisitor nodded, looking away again. “... I was brought before the tribunal, and they found me guilty... The sentence was... well...” Her voice cracked as she gave a wry smile, sighing. “You saw what the physical punishment was... I was... They were going to bind me to a pillar in Heaven... leave me to die there like the traitor I was...” Shaking her head, she murmured, “Even if I get my grace back and restore my wings... I don't think I want to go back, brother...” Looking up at him, her eyes were forlorn even as she smiled. “Heaven is no place for an angel in love with a demon... And even if I could go back... she's not there... So it doesn't matter...” Looking down at the silver vial, she murmured, “I just... I wish the letter hadn't been delivered to her... I shouldn't have written it... But I can't take it back now...”

His nod was slow as he watched her, his blue eyes flickering over her features as she wiped her tears. He hesitated offering what he'd really come into the room for, but it was now or never... “I... actually have something for you... It's a surprise.” Her eyes looked at him, confusion crossing her face as he stood, holding his hand out to her. She took his hand, standing carefully as she unfolded herself from where she sat, gingerly stretching her legs. Releasing her hands, Castiel gently framed her face in his hands, looking down at her as he said, “Close your eyes.”

Dark eyelashes lowered obediently, though she hesitated a moment. Once he was sure she had her eyes closed, he pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and focusing his grace, seeking out Dean from where he stood outside...

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dean suppressed the shiver that worked its way down his spine, grumbling. He didn't know why he had to be the one to stand outside in the snowdrift, but it was Castiel's idea, and anything to help...

He felt the first flash of power ripple through him, shuddering as the grace washed over him. His eyes drifted closed, feeling the cold burn in the pit of his stomach before his eyes flashed open again, and he realized he was not entirely alone in his head. He could feel it like a thrumming in his chest—her heartbeat. His hands slowly uncurled from their fists in his pockets, reaching out to feel the cold brush of flakes over his fingers. He wanted to shove his hands back in his pockets and turn to head back inside, but he could feel her there too—the wonder she felt, the way her heart beat with such excitement, the smile that pulled at his lips, all hers as she leaned her head back to look at the grey sky. It was a strange kind of wonder that he'd never felt for the snow—it was cold and wet and made his clothes damp and the roads slick.

This moment in the snow, taking a step forward and feeling the crunch of it under his boot, the flurries playing with his hair—this was as close to freedom as she'd had in months. He could feel the beginning of tears as he felt the pang of loneliness, of wrongness and reaching for someone who wasn't there, and while he knew it was the Inquisitor's feelings, he couldn't help echoing the sentiment...

The world began to swim as he tried to clear his vision, stumbling for a moment before he fell face-first into a snowbank...

  
  


* * *

  
  


Castiel didn't realize the connection was broken at first. He was still lost in the swirl of grace, the light flaring behind his eyelids as he worked the spell to keep them connected. It wasn't until he felt her slip from his hands that he realized something was wrong. She fell back to land hard on the floor, blood streaming from her nose as she lay there, convulsing on the floor. As his mind cleared, Castiel stared in horror, his voice caught in his throat before he managed to scramble to her side, trying to remember what he'd been taught to do. He couldn't heal her, couldn't make the fit stop... In a panic, he shouted, first for Dean, then for Sam, who came running into the room. He tried to explain what had happened, she'd been fine, and then they'd done the spell, and then...

His blood ran cold at that. The spell involved a small amount of his grace, pushing it through first the Inquisitor, then Dean, looping and tying them together temporarily, for a short while, letting one experience what the other was feeling. He hadn't even thought... His grace...

He might've killed the Inquisitor with his grace...

As Sam helped get her onto her side, he tried to look around for something, anything to help. Looking to the bed, he spotted her phone, scrambling to grab it as he shakily tapped out a message. _Need you here, Wordsmith_. Her twitching and convulsions slowed after what felt like ages, though the phone in his hand told him it was only a couple of minutes. Frowning, he quickly sent another message. _Get here. Now._

There was still no response, even as the fit passed, Sam carefully cleaning her up before they started to check her over. She fortunately didn't seem to be suffering from any head injury, despite the fall, though she was disoriented when she came to her senses at last. Sam was hesitant to move her, though she seemed to check out okay, helping her up and into bed as Dean trudged into the room. He was covered in half-melted snow, his nose bleeding just a little bit as he frowned at the others. Sighing as he spotted the pale angel in bed and the angel at her side clutching the phone, he grumbled, “Someone want to explain... why I just woke up in a pile of snow?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

The end of the day had finally come, and Wordsmith was struggling to keep upright as she yawned. After everything the king had put her through tonight, she wanted to just crawl into bed and listen to Cass talk about her day until they both fell asleep. Better yet, she wanted to just have the chance to crawl into the angel's arms and let herself be mended by the Inquisitor. Gentle hands would stroke her hair, the feel of her warm breath brushing over her neck doing a number on her senses... She shivered at the thought, almost groaning as she reminded herself that Cass wasn't back home waiting for her—she was off god knows where, being _safe_.

Okay, she couldn't really argue with that... She wanted the angel to be safe, and it just so happened that “safe” was “in the middle of nowhere” in an untraceable bunker.

Goddamn it all.

Looking up, she strode up to the King, waiting until he'd set his drink down and was about to pour another before she said, “Sire... I would like my phone back...”

Bored eyes looked at her, one eyebrow raising before Crowley gave a deep sigh. Reaching into his pocket, he turned it over in his hand, looking at it before he said, “I wonder... All that attachment to such a little thing...” Frowning, he looked up at her, narrowing his eyes as he said, “I take it you’ve learned to keep your personal business out of the office...  I’d hate to have to teach you that lesson the hard way.”  After a few moments of measured silence, she simply held her hand out for the phone.  She reached for it as he started to hand it over, her heart leaping in her chest when he pulled it back out of reach.  “I mean it, mouse.  Don’t let silver wings fool you—you know less about your little bird than you realize.”

Frowning at that, she curled her fingers around the phone as he handed it back, turning to slip out of the office as she quickly powered the phone on, praying that the angel would understand.  She waited until the screen flared to life, snapping her fingers as she teleported herself back home.  Standing in her kitchen, she set the phone down, stretching before kicking her shoes off—it was definitely a pizza-in-bed kind of night...  Looking down at the phone as the apps re-initialized and messages were downloaded, she sighed, wondering what kind of day the angel had, walking over to the cabinet to pour herself a drink.  She would be calling soon, she had just enough time to down something at least...

Sipping from her glass, she tapped the messages button, bringing up the oldest message, her finger hovering over the ‘next’ button as she stared down at the message.

_Need you here, Wordsmith._

Frowning at that, she swallowed, taking another sip.  The message wasn’t terribly out of the ordinary for the angel, with her usual ‘I miss the flat’ and ‘There’s nothing to do’ and even ‘I miss you’, but there was something about the message...

Brushing it off as reading too much between the lines, Wordsmith sighed as she clicked to view the next message.

_Get here.  Now._

Well, that was definitely not from the angel.  Well, it was her number, but...  Frowning, she placed the glass in the sink, reaching for her chucks by the door as she scrolled through the messages.

_There’s been an accident.  Inquisitor collapsed._

_She’s breathing again, where are you?_

_She’s awake and asking for you._

_She’s still bleeding, we can’t heal her like this._

_Where are you?_

_Sam says you don’t know where we are—here’s the map._

_Why aren’t you answering?_

Her heart hammered in her chest as she checked the screenshot, bringing it up as she yanked her shoes on before she clicked her fingers.

The rush of cold stole her breath for a moment, leaving her to shudder as she gasped for air, the snow whipping around her as she spied the slick road.  Checking the map again, she started to make her way down the road, hands shaking as she punched in a quick reply.  Almost there.  What happened?

She ignored the way the ice bit at her face and exposed hands as she answered her phone, still hurrying through the heavy snowfall.  “I’m almost there!  It’s a blizzard out here!” she shouted into the phone, the wind whipping her hair around her face.

“W-wordsmith?”

Swearing softly to herself, she slowed herself down a little, listening closely as she said, “Yeah, it’s me...  I’m so sorry, I’m almost there.  Just hang on a little more, okay?”

“I...  I don’t... think I can,” she heard, panic lancing through her as she pushed harder through the snow, ignoring how wet her clothes were getting.  “I don’t feel good,” she said so softly, Wordsmith almost didn’t catch it.

“It’s going to be okay,” the demon said, trying to take a breath.  “Just..  put one of the guys on, okay?  You just sit back and have some tea, I’ll be right with you, I promise.”

There was a few moments of silence as she trekked through the snow, trying to tell how much further she had to go before another voice, deeper this time, came on the line.  “Hello?”

“Hello,” she said, a little out of breath as she paused in walking, “you must be Sam.  I’m Wordsmith, and I hear something happened to my angel there.”

“Oh, um...” he said, the silence stretching for a moment before she could hear footsteps.  “Yeah, she collapsed and started seizing, nose bleeding...  Has she done something like this before?”

“ _Seizing_?!” Wordsmith half-bellowed into the phone.  “Of course not!  What the bloody (hotandaridplace) have you people been doing to her?!”  Turning, she continued tromping through the snow, muttering angrily before she said, “I think I overshot the bunker...  Send someone outside for me, I’ll ping your location that way.”

“Oh, Cas should’ve sent you a map-“

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR A MAP!” she shouted, pausing to take a deep breath, willing herself to calm down for a moment before she said tensely, “I need you to come outside for a minute.  I’ll find you, don’t you worry.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


As Sam left the room, Castiel helped the Inquisitor sit up, holding a glass of water for her to take a sip.  She managed a couple of hesitant swallows before she coughed, sputtering water tinged pink as she tried not to shudder, the taste of blood filling her mouth.  The gentle touch of a handkerchief made her look up, meeting Castiel’s sad gaze as he carefully brushed it away.  “Th-thank you, brother...” she said, leaning against him.

He flinched at her words, frowning before he said softly, “This... was my fault... didn’t think...”

She shook her head a little, still smiling up at him as she gave a shaky sigh.  “It’s okay...  I... got to see and feel the snow again...  It was...”  She sighed again, eyes drifting closed as she remembered, “It was wonderful...  Worth every last second, brother...  I wouldn’t trade it for the world...”  Tears fell from her blue eyes as she trembled, holding weakly to Castiel as he brought his arms around her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Inquisitor survive taking her grace back? She's at the end of her rope, and time is running out...

Opening the door to the bunker, Sam didn’t know what to expect, holding his jacket closed against the cold wind as he looked out over the open snow.  Squinting against the wind, he spoke into the phone as he walked up the steps.  “All right, I’m outside,” he said, straining to see something in the dark.

He didn’t have long to wait, catching a flash of red in the dark before he saw her, making her way through the snow as quickly as she could.  He lowered the phone, hanging up as he tucked the phone into his pocket. 

Raven hair swirled around her as anger rolled off her in waves, the red eyes of a Crossroads demon glinting in the dark.  Her suit was ruffled, feet stomping through the snow as she scowled, lowering her own phone as she got close.  The cold didn’t seem to be slowing her down much as she pushed through the snow and wind towards him. 

He didn’t feel right about letting a demon into the bunker.  He’d already been over it with Dean, that helping Heaven’s most wanted angel was bad enough; allowing open communication with a demon was just inviting disaster.  Right now, though, between Castiel’s panic and the Inquisitor’s quickly deteriorating health he didn’t think they had much choice...

Giving a tense nod, he said over the wind, “You must be the Wordsmith.”  She didn’t reply, just giving him a quick glance over before she looked to the door as if bracing herself.  “She’s inside.  We got her into bed, and we’re just... trying to make her comfortable...  She keeps asking for you.”

“What happened?” she asked, watching him closely, searching his face for any lie as they turned to head inside.  She was unsurprised to find he had an angelblade in one hand, just in case.  Not that she was really one to talk, her own blade up her sleeve as she followed him inside, taking a few moments to stomp off the snow that caked her pants and shoes, tapping and scraping off most of it on the doormat as they made their way inside.

“I don’t know,” Sam said honestly, keeping an eye on her as he led her through the bunker, past the kitchen and main areas, back towards the sleeping quarters.  “I wasn’t in the room when it happened.  Castiel did a spell, trying to do something for her, and I guess she collapsed.  I came running when he started shouting...”  He glanced at her as they turned a corner, frowning.  “We were trying to get a hold of you...”

“I was being detained,” she said simply, shaking her head.  “Work was Hell, as I’m sure you could imagine...”

As they walked, she spotted Dean sitting in a chair, wiping a bloody nose as he frowned at them.  “Figures you’d finally show at the very end,” he said, shaking his head before motioning into the room, “I’m surprised Cas hasn’t started losing feathers over this, he’s pretty damn upset...”

She brushed past him, ignoring his look as she strode into the room before stopping halfway inside, staring at the angels that sat on the bed, Castiel with his arms wrapped around the Inquisitor, cradling her as he rocked her gently.  Her hair was a tangled mess of wild curls, framing her too-pale face as she shook with small sobs, holding tightly to him as she tried to calm herself.  She looked so small there in his arms, her wings trembling in the light.

Blue eyes opened, looking up at Wordsmith before she brightened, giving a watery smile as she reached for her.  Crossing the room in two quick strides, Wordsmith climbed onto the bed without a second thought, pulling the trembling angel into her arms.  Shaking fists clutched at her jacket as she held onto her for dear life, Cass’s wings stretching to try to wrap around her too.  “I thought something had happened to you,” she murmured, holding as tightly as she could to the demon, closing her eyes against the tears. If this was to be her last night, she could do it with her friend at her side...

She didn't know how long she sat like that, holding tightly to Wordsmith as though she was her only lifeline. She couldn't hear the others talking around them, only focusing on the feel of Wordsmith in her arms, those hands caressing and smoothing her hair as she slowly relaxed. She was dazed and lightheaded when she finally pulled back, a hand lightly touching her forehead as she shivered, sniffling and coughing when the bright taste of copper filled her mouth again. Blue eyes had trouble focusing as she looked at her friend, the world starting to spin as her wings fluttered, fading in and out of existence. She tried to keep upright but something went wrong and she found herself lying back, looking up into sad blue eyes. Castiel tried to speak, but she couldn't hear him over the rush of her own pulse in her ears. She gave a shuddering cough, trembling as she felt it...

_This is the end of me..._ she thought, blinking up at the lights as the room grew darker around her.  _I think... I'm ready..._

The last thing she was aware of was the press of the vial against her lips. She tried to fight, tried to push it away—she didn't want her grace anymore. It was a reminder of everything she couldn't be and didn't want anymore, of a life bound in chains and duty...

_I want to die free_ ...

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I thought something had happened to you...” Wordsmith's eyes closed as she heard that, teeth gritting. She'd been suffering like this for _hours_ now. She could have been here ages ago when she was needed! She didn't care what excuse she would've given the King—he could have shoved his lunch appointments and important meetings and personal deals up his ass for all she really cared at that moment...

“I've got you,” Wordsmith breathed into her hair, caressing those long locks as she felt the brush of wings around her. A week apart, and already she couldn't hold onto her tight enough. “Don't worry... I've got you...”

As she traced gentle circles over her back, she felt the faint brush of feathers, the silver of her wings faint in the fluorescent lights. There was something sweet and calming in lightly touching them, tense shoulders slowly relaxing under her hands. If she lost her grace, if she stayed human and shed her wings, they would have this moment... Her lip quivered for a brief moment before her mouth drew into a tight line. If only they could have that... what she wouldn't give...

_You haven't a soul to sell anymore,_ that bitter voice reminded her as she closed her eyes, kissing the angel's temple again.  _Hell owns you already—you have nothing left of worth to give to save the angel..._ Looking up, she eyed the other angel, rocking Cass as she sighed, warm breath drawing a shiver from her. She couldn't even feel the cold anymore, her damp trousers still clinging to her legs, but damn, she could feel the warmth the angel gave off...  _She burns so bright..._

“What happened?” she asked hoarsely, still holding tightly to her angel. Lucifer himself could rise from the cage—she wasn't going to let her go for anything.

Castiel's explanation made her eyes grow wide, looking from him to the hunters as they stood by the door. Anger bubbled in her chest as she tried to hold herself back, wanting to tear into them for trying something so foolish. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried so hard to bite back the words.

A soft sigh drew her attention away from them, watching as Cass pulled back a little. Reaching up, she gently brushed the tears from her cheeks, peering into unfocused blue eyes as long lashes fluttered sleepily. “Morning, angel,” she said softly, managing a small smile as blue eyes looked up at her in a daze. Reaching up to brush a few strands out of her face, she felt her forehead, frowning at the shudder she felt rippling through the angel. “H-how're you feeling?”

Her answer came in the form of a small sniffle, cut short by a sudden cough. Trembling hands reached up to cover her mouth, breath short between coughs as she shook. When at last she gasped for air, Wordsmith caught it, the sight of red at the corner of her mouth and dotted over her open hands.

The heart she'd been denying she had leapt into her throat, reaching up to brush the blood away as blue eyes welled up with tears, a pained sob falling from those lips. “God, Cass, no, please,” she breathed, gathering her into her arms as the angel fell back, wings splayed behind her. Carefully laying her back, she wanted to snap at the angel that leaned over her. She wanted to push him away, to force him out, to tell him he'd done enough damage and there was nothing he could do now to help her, but something in his eyes... “ _Help her_ !” she cried, tears streaming down her face as she took one of her hands, squeezing her fingers tightly. “You didn't help her when she fell, and I get that—I do! I know why she fell! I know why they did this! But please... I'm begging you... don't... d-don't let her die because of me...” He looked from the demon to the Inquisitor, watching as her breaths grew slower and slower. Time was running out... “Whatever it takes,” she said, her voice trembling as the tears started to fall. She didn't care who saw them now—she was as good as dead if her angel didn't make it anyways. Like an angel and two hunters were going to just let her walk free?

She watched in almost disbelief as Castiel looked up at her and said, “Please step out of the room.”

“What?” she asked, blinking before she shook her head, frowning. “No, I'm not leaving her!”

“We're out of time, and if you don't want to be burned out of your vessel,” Castiel said, frowning deeply at her as those blue eyes warned her not to press her luck, “then I suggest you step out.”

She tried to struggle, refusing to let her go, but arms took hold of her, pulling her back as she screamed for the angel,  _her_ angel, begging her to hold on, demanding that she never let go, that she was owed a debt, and she refused to let her out of her end of the deal. She didn't know what else she said, struggling and fighting against arms that dragged her off the bed, yanking her hard out of the room as she watched the Inquisitor lying on the bed, barely responsive as she blinked at the ceiling. Once across the threshold, she tried to lunge back into the room, kicking at Sam and Dean as she tried to focus her powers, to do something, anything to get them off her. She couldn't abandon her, not like this... She needed to be there...

Cass needed her there...

She managed to wrench one arm free as she felt it—the sharp, crisp burn of grace that electrified the air.  Her heart missed a beat for a moment as she felt it hit her hard in the gut. Her struggles stopped, every muscle in her body turning to jelly as she trembled, mouth opening and closing as she tried to speak. She barely registered the feel of hands letting go of her as she stumbled forward, afraid now as she saw the light spill out of the room. She knew the feel of this grace, though she couldn’t tell how, but she just knew that brush of warmth that set her nerves on edge, tears burning at the edge of her vision as she felt the world threaten to stop around her. She shivered at the feel of it, eyes falling closed as she basked in the feel of it. The Inquisitor's grace... it had been too long...

And then there was suddenly a void where her grace had been as the doorway darkened again, and it stole her breath. Red eyes flashed open as she searched for it desperately—it had to be there... That couldn't have been it... She didn't deserve to go like that, in a blaze of light and then nothing. She deserved wings and clouds and harps and light; all the things that a demon could never give her.

At the feel of nothing, she let out a soft sob. She was too late. A thousand things unsaid, a hundred questions unanswered...

_Why did you stay?_

_How could you want me?_

_What did I do to deserve you?_

_Why do you love me?_

_How could you leave me like this?_

“Please don't leave me,” she sobbed as she fell to her knees, tears falling unbidden. “Please... I love you...”

The ruffle of feathers didn't draw her gaze as she stared numbly at her hands in her lap. It hurt so bad, she couldn't bring herself to feel, remaining as still as she could. She feared that if she moved, she might break apart, and no one would be left to bother picking up the pieces. She slowly looked up as she felt warm fingers take her hands. Warm... so warm... Red eyes lifted, meeting teary blue ones as she was greeted with a smile as bright as the dawn. She didn't know how to react, eyes staring as she tried to figure out if she'd died and somehow bypassed Purgatory and landed in Heaven, like there would be a place for her somewhere like that...

“Do you promise?” soft lips asked, that smile growing a little as she sat on the floor across from her. She was all soft light and silver wings and red-brown hair... Wordsmith was afraid to breathe as she stared, dumbfounded...

“I...” she managed, her voice breaking as she stared at the angel, afraid to call the Inquisitor 'hers'. “... If you'll have me,” she breathed.

 


End file.
